Falling From the Sky
by Flying-Squirrelz
Summary: Cammie Morgan is dead. Zach is devastated. But what happens when she gets a second chance at living? There's one more thing complicating her life, though: she's in the wrong body. Zammie, in a sense. Other pairings still intact.
1. Prologue: She Dies

**I decided to post this new story today. Because it's my birthday. And I feel like it. ;P Enjoy!**

_Prologue_

Cameron Anne Morgan had been sloppy.

You could say that she'd been having a bad day, or that she was distracted. She might've been excited, or maybe she had been PMSing and yelling at the taxi driver to hurry it up.

But none of that matters. It's not the _why _that matters, it's the _what_. And that what was: _She had been sloppy._

Too sloppy to notice the man lying on the rooftop of her _temporary_ apartment building. The man with the gun.

She didn't notice until it was too late. Until she heard the gun fire.

It was all too familiar. The memory of the night in the ally when her aunt fell to the ground, with a bullet in her core. She was just a 16 year old spy-in-training, then.

Five years really makes a difference. She was a better spy now. She was good.

But not good enough.

Her body fell to the ground like a ton of bricks. She was _dead _weight.

A tall, muscular man standing across the street ran through the many cars passing by. Getting hit didn't even cross his mind.

"Cammie!" He yelled hysterically. "CAMMIE!"

He noticed that the bullet had gone straight to her heart.

Cammie Morgan was dead.

And all there was left for Zach to do was pull her to his chest, and cry.

**A/N: Yes, I'm sorry for the shortness. **

**Oh, very short apparently. It's like 250 words. xD Oh well, you get what you get (wait, is that even the saying?!).**


	2. CH1: I'm in Heaven

**Shout out to Switz for being the first to review this story! Much appreciated to you and everyone else, too! And thank you Theresa for being my beta and helping me (you should thank her, too, you know. She helps improve this story A LOT.) and for giving me very good feedback! **

**Yeah, so I'll just stop talking now, and I'll let you start reading. **

_Chapter 1_

Cammie suddenly found herself flying up, towards the sky. Somehow, she knew she was dead. Even so, she dared to look down where her limp figure was lying in Zach's arms.

She suddenly let out a gasp. Zach was crying. He was _sobbing_, and she could see him shaking from so high up.

Zach Goode. The strongest person she knew, both physically and emotionally. At least, that's was she had thought.

_No_, she thought. _NO!_

She couldn't let this happen to him. To herself. She couldn't do this to Rachel. To Bex. To Liz. To Macey. They'd blame themselves, for not being there to protect her.

That wasn't true, though. She made them leave her. She didn't need the protection; she was a big girl and could take care of herself. At least...that's what she'd thought.

Crowds of people began surrounding Zach and the body in his arms. She saw several people whip out their cell phones. Ambulances were racing through the streets from the nearby hospital. The local stations' vans were surrounding the area, and reporters and camera men jumped out.

Cammie struggled to resist the force pulling her up. How could she affect so many people? She was one person in the world. She was just a civilian to the people gathered around her. She was just one of the many, _many_ spies who had died.

The struggle to go back was lost as soon as her feet landed on a squeaky-clean white marble floor. She looked up and found herself in an unfamiliar place.

It was huge. And white. Everything was white. The floor was white. The walls. The ceiling. It was like a gigantic office. It was bigger than HQ.

Cammie heard footsteps behind her and felt the presence of someone.

"Cammie?" said a familiar voice.

It wasn't her dad. It wasn't Josh.

No, it was Grant.

"Grant?!" she exclaimed.

He smiled and started walking towards a desk, motioning for her to follow him.

"Take a seat."

"You're dead," she questioned him, but it came out more like a statement.

He had been abducted. She was there, with him. They had gone on a mission together. They had been on the run from the bad guys, when they came across a vent. But he was too big to fit. Despite Cammie's protests, he shoved her in the small vent and put the cover back on. He'd told her to stay quiet and to tell everyone that he was sorry. Outside she had heard footsteps, yelling, and a gunshot. When it finally got quiet, she crawled out and ran. Grant had been said to be MIA, since there was no evidence of him being dead.

"Yeah, but I'd rather not talk about that," he replied with a chuckle.

"And… I'm dead."

"Yes, and that's why I'm here." Technically, he was there because he died. That was beside the point, though. "I'm your guardian angel, Cammie."

She just gaped at him. The day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

Grant glanced at the computer screen. He gave her a half-smile. "Looks like you're going to heaven. Don't get me wrong, you have tons of bad deeds, but your good deeds definitely outweigh the bad ones."

Cammie was out of it. _Goode deeds, _she thought. _Goode… Zach!_ She snapped out of it and slapped her hands down on the table. "Send me back, Grant."

"But, Cam-"

"Send. Me. Back." She was trying her hardest to hold back her tears. "Do you know what this is going to do to Zach? To _Bex_?" she half-whispered. Grant's expression softened and Cammie could see in his eyes that he did want to send her back. _He _wanted to go back. To his best friend. To his first and only love. "Do you know what my… passing will do to them? Do you, Grant? They've already lost a best friend and a fiancé!"

"That's just the life of a spy," Grant mumbled.

"No," Cammie said in a shaky voice. Then continued, suddenly stronger, "There's a way to go back, isn't there? Anything is possible."

"Maybe there is, but I'm not going to tell you," Grant said harshly. "You think I don't want to go back? You think that I don't want you to go back? Well, you're wrong. But I'd rather be here then sent to he-"

He stopped as a woman walked by and said, "Language, Grant."

He rolled his eyes, whispering, "H-E-double hockey sticks."

"I see," Cammie said stiffly. "So you're too much of a coward to make any sacrifices for the ones you love? Isn't that what being a spy is about, making sacrifices? "

She didn't know what she felt. She was angry, sad, desperate, and very determined. She had to get back to Earth.

Grant had had enough. "I made a sacrifice for you, already. I saved your life! Trust me Cam, you're better off if you stay here. Have fun, Cammie. And welcome to heaven."

* * *

**A/N: I hope you liked it!**

**Ooh, Grant. Twist in the story right there! **

**I have the next chapters planned, so now I just gotta make them happen. Sadly, that may take awhile since writing chapters comes in waves for me. If that makes any sense at all…**

**So yeah, WARNING: YOU MAY HAVE TO WAIT FOR PROLONGED PERIODS OF TIME FOR NEW CHAPTERS. Just saying.**

**Next time on FALLING FROM THE SKY: Can Cammie figure out a way to get back to Earth? What will happen to Grant? HOW WILL THEY DEAL WITH THE CRUELNESS OF THE WORLD (aha, just kidding. Well, sort of.)?!**


	3. CH2: Return

**A/N:** **Of course, I always have to start my chapters off with these. Jeez, it's been a long 11 (freaking) months since I last updated any of my stories. I finally got to it. And if you're wondering why I'm updating this story instead of _Gallagher Academy: to the Max_, it's because, honestly, I think that one kinda sucks. And I have more interest in this story :b BUT, I will get around to updating _GA:M_ (bleh, that's how I'm gonna abbreviate it. How lame am I?). Eventually. Hopefully by the end of the year. What can I say? I'm a slacker (with chronic writer's block). I'll stop talking now. Just read on, because you're probably itching to know what happens:**

_Chapter 2_

I paced back and forth in my room.

White. I've mentioned it already but, still. It was everywhere. And I was totally sick of it, after seeing it for three days straight. All I could do was close my eyes and welcome the darkness that came with it. I sighed and collapsed on the gigantic bed in the middle of the room. Turns out Heaven likes to welcome people with luxurious living spaces. Maybe it's supposed to make up for dying—like it's a way of saying "Sorry you died!" or something. But the apology completely and utterly failed, and on a scale of bad to good, it was an epic fail. I wasn't gonna forgive anyone anytime soon. Including myself.

I had a headache. My legs were sore. My knuckles were scraped raw from hitting various sedentary objects. For a majority of people, heaven is seen as a peaceful place, a good place. I guess I was part of the minority who believes otherwise. Because, to me, it was hell.

_Think, think, think. _I may have been thinking like Winnie the Pooh, but that didn't matter. What mattered was how I could get out of here. It was like I had purchased a one-way ticket, and I didn't have enough money to get back (alright, bad comparison, I know). So, figuratively, I had to earn some money. It didn't sound hard. The _what _was simple, the _how_, however, was not.

There was a light knock on the door.

"Come in!" I called. I opened my eyes to see Grant step inside my room. He looked at me.

"I see you've given up trying to strangle me."

"Yeah. A day of deep thinking can really change a girl."

"So you've come to terms with this whole 'situation'?" He motioned to me.

"Grant, how do I earn some money?"

"Excuse me?" He looked at me like I was crazy. Money doesn't exist in this nightmare. "And you haven't answered my question."

"I said, '_Grant, how do I earn some money?'_" I then looked at him like he was stupid, knowing it would get on his nerves. He rolled his eyes. "Plus, you haven't answered _my _question."

He walked over to my bed and sat down next to me. "Your question is stupid," he replied. "There is no way. And I'll take it that you haven't come to terms with this yet."

"Are you here for friendly, moral support, or to be my therapist?" Because yesterday, and the day before, he had been the second option. And the first. He had been both, and I didn't know which one I needed more, because I thought I might have been slightly mental.

"Neither. Are you ready for your tour?"

"No. I don't care. I'll save that for when I come back," I mumbled.

"What do you mean? You're not going anywhere." He raised an eyebrow and looked at me, challenging me to disagree, but at the same time, in his eyes I saw sympathy… no, it was empathy. At that point I knew that Grant had gone through the same thing as me. At some point he had given up. That wasn't a mistake I was about to make.

"Yes, I am. I'm going to figure out a way to go back, okay? It's gonna happen. Whether the welcoming committee likes it or not," I told him. Then I whispered, "And when I do figure it out, you're coming with me." I looked into his eyes and saw the faintest glimmer of hope, and then I watched it disappear.

"You're crazy," was all he said before he disappeared, running away from any risks he may be convinced to take if he stuck around too long.

* * *

Hours passed by. What could a broke person do? I was broke and broken. I had already given up the idea of "earning money." It was a stupid idea anyways. Then I had a thought. I shook my head; it might have been crossing the line. It's a concept and action that's illegal. Most people don't get away with it. But I knew I could. What if it was the only way to get back? I would give up anything for a way, and I might have found it.

* * *

You'd be surprised how technical heaven is. It makes me roll my eyes. (What happened to good ol' fashioned manpower?)

The computers are almightily. Heck, everything there… or here, is. How do you order new cashmere socks? The computer. How do you order pizza? The computer. How do you talk to Grant when he's not there? Skype (okay… the computer). How do you schedule an appointment at the spa (not that I have, 'cause I've been focused for the past few days)? The computer. How do you get back down to Earth to dramatically reunite with friends and family and the agency?

The computer.

But, I didn't have that option on mine (Grant did). Only a few people did (like Grant). But it wouldn't be hard for me to gain access to that option, since I'm a spy (and one of Grant's best friends). Except I'm not Liz (but I am Cammie the Chameleon. Grant's-Best-Friend-Cammie. Gallagher-Girl-Cammie.) . Therefore, the process would take… not as long as most would expect.

* * *

Two days. It was two days of planning to break into Grant's laptop, two days filled with fatigue because I didn't sleep (because, surprisingly, in heaven you still function and feel like a human), and two days with pain from blisters on my fingers. Two days of keeping Grant distracted. _Very_ distracted. And busy.

But those two days were the best two days of my stay in heaven. Because I had finally found a way out. And when I saw "Cameron Ann Morgan" pop up in large letters across the top of the screen, that was the highlight.

Suddenly the world had slowed down. It was like I was living in slow-motion as I moved the mouse to hover over one word—and clicked.

"Return."

Unfortunately, by the time I had realized that I had left Grant behind, it was too late.

* * *

**A/N:** **Have I improved? Well, I'm older and smarter now, so I hope so. I have some ideas about future chapters, so that's good. Except this chapter went un-beta-ed because I was too impatient.**

**Also, have you guys noticed the amount of spelling and grammatical errors in GG fanfics nowadays? It's terrifying. So please, _please_, if you're writing a story, make sure that everything is right (including the format).**

**Anyways, let me know what you though. Just click that "Review" button right there (look down.). My goal is usually 10 reviews per chapter, and if I get more than that (like 20)… well, it makes me ecstatic (because it means people actually like my writing—or the exact opposite. I tend to be pessimistic when it comes to my writing.).**

**And (last thing, promise.) just so you know: writing long chapters is hard to do. It really is. For me, anyways. So you'll usually end up seeing my chapters being around a thousand words long. That's probably the average.**


	4. CH3: Discovery

**Surprised that I updated so soon (when it comes to my standards, anyways)? Hope you're happy, then ;) And guess what? Chapter 4 is complete (now I just need to send it to my awesome beta, PeaceWithRhythm, aka Theresa, fellow GA admin [hi, GA members!]). **

**Ah. And one more thing: as a few of you pointed out, this is like Drop Dead Diva (that amazing show on Lifetime with Jane/Deb accompanied her guardian angel Fred, best friend Stacy, and ex [sorta] boyfriend Grayson). Well, that's because this fic is based on the series. Oh, and you may see some **_**Airhead**_** influence here, too, since I read the series recently. I can't believe I forgot to mention these things. My bad. **

_Chapter 3_

I woke up with a throbbing pain in my head.

Where was I?

I was dazed. Dazed and confused. And startled. And puzzled.

With great difficulty, I opened my eyes—which were almost blinded by the brightest fluorescent light I had ever seen—only to find myself in an unfamiliar room, lying in a large bed so soft that all I wanted to do was close my eyes again and fall back into a deep slumber.

But I didn't. Instead, I forced myself to keep my eyes open and survey my surroundings and take in the teensiest details. Like Mr. Solomon had always reminded us to.

Windows lined the bright blue wall to my right. The room gave off an...airy feeling. Knowing this room was clearly not mine, I wondered where I was, seeing pieces of light wooden furniture all around.

Even so, the room made me feel safe. Like everything was okay.

It took me awhile to notice the faint beeping noise coming from my left, giving off a rhythm that was in sync with the steady thumping I felt in my chest. It made me feel more at peace. I realized that it was a monitor, and that wires were connecting it... to me?

And my arm...why was there an IV attached to it?

Suddenly, the door on the far side of the room opened, revealing a middle-aged woman—I assumed she was a doctor, since your average person doesn't walk around with a stethoscope around their neck.

"Ah, I see you're finally awake. That's good. You know, you had everyone worried for awhile there. Most people don't suddenly collapse while running through fields—and they certainly do not fall into critical condition afterwards. You're lucky your brother was with you, or you probably would've been dead by now—you had a fever of one hundred and seven point five, a temperature that would've killed any other person." I opened my mouth to protest, to tell her I didn't have a brother, but she began to speak again. "Don't say a word. I know, you must be surprised that such a little bee could do you so much harm, but these things happen. And it just so happens that you are highly allergic to bees. So you may want to stay out of those flowery fields from now o—"

"Um, excuse me—" I said then paused to read her nametag, "—Dr. Von? The thing is...I don't even have a brother… and I don't remember anything about a field, either…" I trailed off, trying to remember the last thing that had happened to me before waking up in this room.

My brain suddenly flooded with memories—my days at Gallagher, my family, friends.

Laughing, having fun. Going to Hawaii with Bex, Liz, and Macey after graduation.

Zach surprising me at home after my first solo mission.

Walking home after having coffee with Macey.

Getting shot. Dying. Arriving in Heaven. Escaping.

And now… I had no clue what the heck had happened. Or where I was. And it was driving me insane.

I realized something was wrong. I had succeeded in coming back, right? Then why wasn't I at home? In my room, in my bed? I looked down at myself.

My fingers were suddenly long and slender—delicate—like a pianists'. My hair, long and dark, draping over my shoulders and spreading out over my chest. Definitely not the blonde hair I'd never cared for. I realized that my toes, which made the covers poke up, were much farther away from me than they should have been. I was taller, skinnier, and lacked any muscle mass I used to have. What was this? What happened on the way back?

"I… uh…uh… You know… umm…" I was stuttering, something I knew a spy should avoid doing at all times. But I decided it was understandable due to my state of mind.

_This isn't my body_, I thought, looking down at myself once again. I had to figure this out.

"How high did you say my fever was? One hundred and seven point five?"

"Yes, one hundred and seven point five, exactly." A temperature that could give most people amnesia. Although I knew that wasn't the case with me. My case was much, much more complicated than that. It was something Dr. Von could never understand, no matter how many years of experience she had.

"Why can't I remember anything? Is it possible that I could have…amnesia?"

She blinked at me. "What day is it?"

"How long have I been out?" I shot back.

"Three days." I took a deep breath—that was how long I'd been in heaven.

"Then it's Tuesday, the 12th?"

"Who is the president?"

"Mars. John Mars." Gosh, the president didn't come close to being a 007 (trust me, I've met him enough times to know that there's no ounce of spy-ness in his body or mind). Why did I have to say it like that?

"And your name is…?"

I had no answer to that. I knew better than to say "Cameron Morgan", no matter how sure of it my mind was, for I knew that my body said otherwise. For awhile we just stared at each other in silence.

"I… I don't know," I replied, feeling strange about lying and telling the truth at the same time.

She rushed out of the room mumbling something that sounded like, "The fever must have had consequences worse than I thought… " I just leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. What was this? I sat on my bed for awhile, becoming more confused as I tried to put the pieces together. They were there, all right. I just couldn't see the big picture. Yet.

"Cam?" I jumped at the voice—Grant's—coming from the side of my bed. When had he gotten there? Had he been there the whole time?

"Grant, oh my gosh, Grant! When'd you get here? What happened? One minute I'm clicking 'Return' and the next I'm waking up in a strange place and a strange body." I was _not _amused. " This isn't my body, yeah? Because I think that by the age of 21 I would've noticed that I'm brunette!" I was fast at figuring things out, I had to be, since that's what being a spy is partly about, even if freaking out over something wasn't.

He nodded. Sighing, he explained, "The thing is, there were some… complications. You see, your body was a bit too damaged to be…revived…so your soul basically went into the next body available. Which just happened to be the body that belongs to… uh, _belonged_ to—"

"To who?" I was seriously getting impatient with Grant. A girl (especially a spy girl) could only go so long without knowing what the heck was going on. If Grant didn't tell me soon, I was gonna—

"—to Kailey Mars."

Oh. My. Gosh. I swear, I was about to have a panic attack.

This was bad. Why me? Of the (nearly) seven billion people in the world, why me? Why _her_?

I could not be Kailey Mars. Because she was Macey's mortal enemy. And because Bex, Liz, and anyone else closely acquainted with Mace wasn't fond of Kailey. Why, you ask? Did I mention her father was John Mars? The man who had won over America in the polls repeatedly, over senators McHenry and Winters?

Political drama is the worst. And losing streaks are not appreciated.

And neither are "angelic" (read "conniving, backstabbing") daughters.

* * *

**A/N: Well, how was it? I got more than 10 reviews last time. Felt good. Made me happy. Nothing new there :)**

**And now I'll grant you another "next time on…"**

**[Cue announcer voice]**

**Next time on FALLING FROM THE SKY: Grant and Cammie have a conversation. Apparently there are rules to live by and things to discuss. (- Short. Eh, not much to write here. Don't wanna spoil anything. Hmmm.)**


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